The Confessions of Eulene
       

I eat too many Twinkies.
I ask God to make me virtuous, but just not yet.
I pick Tater Tots off other peo ple's plates.
I order 40 large pizzas for the house where my old boyfriend
                        lives with that new babe of his, and
I use his credit card number.
I go through my new boyfriend's wallet
looking for photos of his old girlfriends.
I get most of my ideas off the internet.
I stea l the rest of my ideas from the renegade saints
                        wit h names like Augustine and Aloysius and Simon Stylites
                        who spent years standing on pillars in the deserts of Iraq.
I stock my bathroom with toilet tissue swiped from fast-food restaurant dispensers.
I swear on Epimenides' perplex—whatever that is.
I take naps anytime, especially when stuck in rush hour traffic.
I'm a Capricorn with kundalini rising.
I make videos of myse lf on You Tube
                        dressed entirely in marshmallow paste and little pink
                        squiggles of birthday cake icing.
In high school, I snuck out with all the punk poets in my home room
                        and flam ingoed the vice principal's front yard.
Now, I'm casing the lawn of the college president's McMansion.
I raise my grade point average like a hot air balloon.
I tell only lies in my confessions.

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Copyright © 2015 Carolyne Wright All rights reserved
from Vallum
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission